


everyday's the same, back to the train

by awoogah123



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Canada, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Trains, non-hockey au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awoogah123/pseuds/awoogah123
Summary: He was cute - objectively, of course - with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, and he was smiling, like,reallysmiling. Dylan couldn’tpossiblyfathom why someone would be so happy stepping onto atrain.He was meeting someone, maybe?Dylan’s theory was proven wrong when the man came to a stop at Dylan’s side,“Is this seat taken?”***A six hour train delay messes up Dylan's plans of attending his job interview, it's a good job Mitch decided to sit next to him to make the time go quicker...
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Dylan Strome
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	everyday's the same, back to the train

**Hour One**

Dylan was having a bad day. You know those days where _everything_ seems to go wrong? Well, it was one of _those_ days.

To start things off on a sour note, his alarm hadn’t rung that morning - or maybe Dylan had pressed _sleep_ instead of _snooze…_ He hadn’t had enough time for breakfast, _barely_ squeezing in a shower, and then he’d searched for his favourite blue tie for at _least_ thirty minutes. And as if all _that_ wasn’t bad enough, he had the worry of an interview weighing down on his shoulders.

Dylan _really_ reconsidered his life choices as he slipped his train ticket into the pocket of his dress pants - was he doing the right thing? Travelling all the way to _Ottawa_ was pretty extreme when he wasn’t even sure he actually _wanted_ the job. Still, it was too late now, Dylan had already paid for his ticket - all $50 of it - and he wasn’t about to waste his money, _or_ all the time and effort he’d put into planning for this goddamn interview. _Nope,_ he’d go, it was just one day of his life, one he might regret if he chickened out right now.

The train pulling into Union Station was enough of a confirmation for Dylan - he was going through with this. Tightening his grip on his backpack, he stepped onto the train.

**Hour Two**

Dylan hadn’t anticipated _just_ how boring the journey would be, four hours from Toronto to Ottawa was a _drag,_ and he was only one hour down. With a sigh, Dylan slapped his notebook shut with a _slap,_ he could only go through his notes _so_ many times, and at this point - seven hours away from the interview - not much was going into his brain anyway.

Dylan averted his gaze to the window, the changing scenery, as the train rolled along. He pushed his earphones into his ears, letting the sounds of The Fratellis fill his ears, blocking the sounds of his mind whirring. He needed to relax.

The train pulled into a small station a little while later, the platform dotted with a scattering of passengers. Dylan’s gaze landed on one person in particular, one who was currently making his way up to the door of Dylan’s carriage.

He was cute - objectively, of course - with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, and he was smiling, like, _really_ smiling. Dylan couldn’t _possibly_ fathom why someone would be so happy stepping onto a _train._ He was meeting someone, maybe?

Dylan’s theory was proven wrong when the man came to a stop at Dylan’s side,

“Is this seat taken?”

Dylan hastily paused his music, eyes bouncing between the free aisle seat beside him and the cute man standing above him.

“It’s free,” Dylan uttered quietly.

“Great,” the guy said, grin somehow _widening._ “I’m Mitch, by the way.”

“Dylan,” Dylan replied, reaching out and shaking Mitch’s hand. Maybe this train journey had gotten a _little_ more bearable.

**Hour Three**

Mitch was _not_ a very relaxing travel companion, he lasted all of _twenty minutes_ before he jumped up from his seat and started strolling down the aisle - looking for the bathroom, maybe? And if _that_ wasn’t bad enough, he did it _again_ another ten minutes later. Dylan was pretty sure he would’ve moved already if Mitch wasn’t so easy on the eye.

Mitch was about to get up _again_ \- Dylan could read the signs now, Mitch’s right leg would start to bounce up and down, he’d strain his neck and read the map above their row of seats, and _then_ he’d get up again. Well, not on Dylan’s watch.

“Jesus, dude,” Dylan muttered, dropping his earphones to his lap. “Would you just, like, relax? There’s no _way_ you need to go to the bathroom again.”

“I haven’t _been_ to the bathroom,” Mitch said blankly.

“But you keep getting up…” Dylan said, brows pulled together in a small frown.

“Oh, yeah,” Mitch said, mouth splitting into a _huge_ grin, “I’m not too good at sitting still. I feel all cooped up if I can’t go and stretch my legs every now and then.”

“I can tell,” Dylan muttered, mouth curving into a small smile - he couldn’t _not_ smile in the face of Mitch’s blinding beam.

“Am I bothering you?” Mitch asked, smile slipping a little.

“Not at all,” Dylan said, and he found he wasn’t actually lying. Mitch might be a little distracting but Dylan would pretty much welcome _any_ distraction right now - anything to take his mind off the impending interview.

**Hour Four**

“ _\--We will be expecting a small delay. We are extremely sorry for any inconveniences this may have caused you.”_

 _A small delay_ \- well, fuck. Dylan should be in Ottawa soon - well, soon enough - _instead,_ he was stuck in a sea of fields. His interview was in _five hours,_ and they had at _least_ an hour of the journey left - they _really_ needed to get going.

“Quit that.” He looked down to find Mitch’s palm on his left knee - the heat palpable even _through_ his pants - stilling it, which was pretty ironic, really.

“Oh, sorry,” Dylan mumbled, trying to force his leg to relax under Mitch’s touch, it was surprisingly easy.

“You worried about the delay?” Mitch asked, glancing to the travel board that hung from the front of the carriage. “I don’t think it’ll be too bad, we’ll probably get going soon.”

“I have a job interview in Ottawa,” Dylan explained, meeting Mitch’s gaze.

“ _Oh._ ” Realisation dawned on Mitch’s face, “ _That_ explains the sexy CEO garb.”

“Yeah--” Dylan spluttered to a stop - had Mitch just called him _sexy?_ Jesus, this guy was forward. Dylan’s cheeks had no doubt flushed because Mitch burst out laughing.

“What’s the job?” Mitch asked, quickly composing himself.

“It’s for a law firm, basically--”

“ _Yawn,_ ” Mitch muttered, arms flying out in an exaggerated stretch.

“Rude,” Dylan scowled, eyes narrowing as he took in Mitch’s grin.

“I was just joking,” Mitch laughed, placing a palm on Dylan’s bicep, he gave it a reassuring squeeze before pulling away. “But I guess I’m not _really_ a fan of law.”

“Not many people are,” Dylan said, mouth curving into a smirk. “And how about you?”

“How about me what?”

“Where are you headed to?”

“Ottawa too,” Mitch said. “It’s my grandma’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Happy birthday to your grandma,” Dylan said, eyes locked on Mitch’s.

“Thanks,” Mitch said, giving Dylan a flash of that smile that made his stomach coil. That smile was like _gold dust._

**Hour Five**

It was _not_ a _small_ delay, in fact it seemed to be a rather _large_ delay, one with no end in sight.

With a ragged breath, Dylan dragged a hand through his dark hair - his interview was literally a few hours away, and he still needed to actually _get_ to the interview from the station. For what must have been the one _thousandth_ time in the past hour, he pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the screen. _No notifications._

Dylan chewed on his bottom lip as he deliberated whether to message the interviewer or not, tell them he couldn’t make it.

“Dude, I can basically _hear_ your brain working,” Mitch said, snapping Dylan from his thoughts. “Just try to chill out, okay?”

“I can’t _’chill out’,” Dylan huffed. “I’m gonna miss this interview.”_

“Why don’t you message them?” Mitch suggested. “Tell them you can’t make it?”

“Because that’ll look _so_ unprofessional,” Dylan grimaced.

“It’s not _your_ fault that the train’s broken down,” Mitch said - which was what had happened, the train had _broken down,_ because of _course_ it had.

“Yeah, but--” Dylan stopped, eyes following Mitch’s movements as he leant forward and pulled his backpack onto his lap. He retrieved a bag of Sour Patch Kids a moment longer.

“Here,” Mitch said, ripping the bag open and removing a couple of candies. He dropped them into Dylan’s open palm. “Try and relax.”

“Sour Patch Kids?” Dylan smirked, chest feeling a little lighter as he popped a blue raspberry candy into his mouth. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“You could say that,” Mitch replied, grin crooked with a mouth filled with candy.

**Hour Six**

When the train hadn’t moved after _two hours,_ Dylan was basically hyperventilating. His interview was _three hours_ away and by the looks of the stationary train, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I will _literally_ pull your phone out of your pocket myself and send your interviewers a message if you don’t right now,” Mitch said.

Logically Dylan _knew_ he should just message the interviewers, just get it over with.

“But--”

“ _Dylan._ ” Mitch’s tone held a hint of finality to it and Dylan found himself listening to him. Shoulders slumping, Dylan pulled his phone from his pocket and started to compose an email - he’d just tell them the truth, if they turned Dylan down _purely_ because of the train breaking down, he wouldn’t want to work for them anyway.

His thumb hovered over the _Send_ button, seconds away from pressing it when his phone screen lit up with a call. The name of the law firm flashed up, ringing obnoxiously as it taunted Dylan - it was as if they _knew…_

“Answer it,” Mitch urged, jabbing Dylan in the side. Dylan glanced sideways before accepting the call. He swallowed before speaking,

“Hello, Dylan speaking.”

Dylan couldn’t believe his ears.

“I’m _so_ sorry but we’re going to have to postpone your interview,” the lady said, not realising _just_ how unapologetic Dylan was to hear this. “Mr. Brown has not been able to make it in today but we expect him to be in as normal tomorrow for your interview to go ahead.”

“Oh, erm, thank you for letting me know,” Dylan mumbled, not being able to stop the relieved grin that crept across his face.

“Is the same time tomorrow okay for you?” the lady asked, “2:30p.m.?”

“That’s perfect, thank you,” Dylan said, the glee evident in his voice.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Strome.” Dylan all but _melted_ into his seat, phone slipping from his hands.

“What happened?” Mitch asked, mouth quirked up as he took in Dylan’s easy grin.

“Mr. Brown couldn’t make it today,” Dylan said, feeling the most relaxed he had all day - all _week._ “The interview’s been postponed to tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s great,” Mitch grinned, reaching out and giving Dylan’s arm _another_ squeeze, and Dylan _really_ shouldn’t enjoy Mitch’s touch as much as he did. “Now you can sit back and _enjoy_ the rest of this godforsaken delay.”

“ _Enjoy?_ ” Dylan asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, you _are_ in great company,” Mitch smirked. Dylan couldn’t disagree.

**Hour Seven**

“ _Okay,_ so you live in Toronto but you’re from Mississauga, you have two brothers - older _and_ younger - you like singing in the car, and your favourite dog is a golden retriever?” Mitch asked, blue eyes shining with mirth.

“Yep,” Dylan grinned, loosening his collar, he’d already _long_ ditched his tie. He rolled the sleeves of his jacket up - because this train was _hot_ \- and started to talk, “And _you_ are originally from Markham, you have one older brother, you like playing video games, and you like Bon Jovi?”

“Hell yeah,” Mitch grinned, reaching out and clapping Dylan’s hand in a high five. The touch was brief but made his hand prickle with heat, Dylan could only _imagine_ what it would feel like to _hold Mitch’s hand._

 _Really_ good.

“What are you grinning at?” Mitch asked, chucking a little. “The last _I_ checked, you were pissed we’ve been stuck for the past four hours.”

“Oh I _am_ pissed,” Dylan admitted, smile unyielding. “I guess I’m just glad you sat next to me. I’d rather be stuck beside _you,_ than some other asshole.”

“Aw, you don’t think I’m an asshole?” Mitch smirked, bringing a hand to his chest. “I feel blessed.”

“You should do,” Dylan laughed, thumping Mitch in the shoulder. Mitch laughed.

“No, but seriously I’m glad I sat here too,” Mitch said, laughter dying out. “ _Really._ ”

**Hour Eight**

“I spy with my little eye, something beginning with…” Mitch paused, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he looked up and down the carriage. His mouth split into a grin. “ _C._ Something beginning with C.”

“ _C?_ ” Dylan mumbled, craning his neck as he rubbed a hand through his hair. “How can you even _think_ of anything else? We’ve been playing this for _ages._ ”

“Quit whining and start guessing,” Mitch grinned. With a sigh, Dylan looked up and down the carriage.

_C. C. C. C…_

“Carriage?”

“Try again,” Mitch scoffed.

“Coffee?” Dylan guessed, gaze landing on a cup of coffee held in a lady’s hand across the aisle.

“ _Cold,_ ” Mitch said in a singsong voice.

“Carpet?” Dylan guessed, Mitch shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You’re really bad at this,” Mitch laughed. Dylan opened his mouth to argue but Mitch cut him off, “ _Cutie._ ”

“Cutie?” Dylan’s eyebrows flew up.

“Cutie,” Mitch confirmed with a nod.

“Erm, _where’s_ the cutie?” Dylan asked slowly, looking up and down the aisle.

“You’re looking the long way,” Mitch said with a shake of his head, “turn around.”

Dylan turned around until he was facing outside, or rather the _window,_ his and Mitch’s reflections stared back at them.

“ _Me?_ ” Dylan asked, eyebrows flying up. _Jesus,_ his heart felt like it was tap dancing or something.

“ _No,_ me,” Mitch said sarcastically. His mouth split into a grin, “ _Yes,_ Dylan. _You._ ”

 _Wow,_ Mitch thought Dylan was a cutie.

**Hour Nine**

“I swear to _God,_ ” Dylan huffed, “if someone doesn’t get this train moving in a minute, _I_ will personally go and look at the engine.” Yes, Dylan enjoyed sitting next to Mitch, but six hours trapped in this _greenhouse,_ was a little excessive. He’d much rather prefer wandering the _city_ with Mitch - and _wow,_ that had happened quickly…

“Didn’t realise lawyers were _also_ secret engineers,” Mitch smirked.

“I’m not a lawyer,” Dylan pointed out. Mitch raised a hand, essentially stopping Dylan,

“After _six hours,_ I’m _still_ not bored enough to talk law with you.”

“Meanie,” Dylan muttered, sticking his tongue out at Mitch. Mitch’s blue gaze landed on Dylan’s mouth, on his tongue; Dylan slowly poked his tongue away because he was in _serious_ danger of drooling. Mitch did that to him.

“Anyway, why are you in such a rush to leave?” Mitch asked. “Am I not interesting enough or something?”

“Oh, you are _more_ than interesting,” Dylan assured him. “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ learnt so much about someone in such a short amount of time. But I just _really_ need to get some fresh air, you know? Be able to walk around.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mitch conceded with a shrug.

“Says _you,_ ” Dylan smirked. “For the first hour you couldn’t even sit _still,_ and that was _before_ the train decided to stop working!”

“I felt awkward,” Mitch admitted with a sheepish grin.

“ _Awkward?_ ” Dylan repeated, brows pulling together in a small frown. After the short time - or _eternity,_ depending on who you were asking - they’d spent together, Dylan got confident vibes from Mitch. The guy _screamed_ go-with-the-flow, Dylan was surprised he even knew the _meaning_ of ‘awkward’.

“Yeah, you seemed all grumpy at first,” Mitch said.

“ _Grumpy?_ I was _not_ grumpy,” Dylan said. The smile playing on Mitch’s lips told him he _had_ been.

“Yeah, you were,” Mitch laughed, “but that was _before_ I got to know you. Now I know you’re not _just_ grumpy.”

“ _Just?_ ”

“Yep,” Mitch nodded with a grin, “now I know that you’re funny, sweet _and_ grumpy.” Dylan would take it - two out of three was good enough for him. “Oh, and you _really_ rock that sexy businessman look.”

Dylan would _really_ take it.

**Hour Ten**

Dylan was actually a little _disappointed_ when the train started up again - despite all his earlier complaints - they had one hour of their journey left. One hour left with Mitch.

And that one hour was dwindling, _quickly._

“So, how long are you in Ottawa for?” Dylan asked for _something_ to fill the silence, it was clear _neither_ of them were looking forward to their approaching departure.

“A couple of days,” Mitch replied. “I’m back home by Monday. How about you?”

“Well, I _was_ planning on heading back home tonight,” Dylan said, “but I _swear,_ I think my legs will actually _drop off_ if I have to step on another train today.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Mitch asked, blue eyes glowing with - _something?_

“Hang out for a while,” Dylan shrugged. “Try and get the earliest train tomorrow morning. I don’t know, I’ll find a hotel or something.”

“Just for the one night?” Mitch asked.

“I guess,” Dylan shrugged - this all seemed very final, look a _goodbye._

“You know--” Mitch paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “Actually, don’t worry.” He shook his head.

“No, what is it?” Dylan prompted, bumping his shoulder against Mitch’s.

“It’s stupid,” Mitch said, looking up at Dylan with wide eyes.

“Mitch, I’ve told you things I haven’t told _anyone,_ ” Dylan said. “We’ve been pretty much talking non-stop for the past - what? - _nine hours,_ whatever you’re going to say now is _not_ going to be stupid.”

“Well,” Mitch ducked his head, “I was just going to say that my parents have a spare room. In their house. If you wanted to…”

“You’re inviting me to stay at your parents’s with you?” Dylan asked, eyebrows flying up.

“Yeah, just because you don’t have anywhere else to go,” Mitch mumbled. “I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s--” Dylan paused, mouth splitting into a huge grin. “It’s very kind of you, but are you sure? I mean, I’m basically a _stranger_ to you.”

“Dylan,” Mitch said slowly, looking up to meet Dylan’s eye, smiling back in full force. “As you just said, we’ve been stuck together for the past nine hours. I feel like I know you more than _most_ people.”

“Well, yeah, but--”

“Dylan, would you like to come to my parents’s with me?”

“Yes.” The answer was easy, _too_ easy, but Dylan wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. Maybe not ever. They grinned at each other.

Dylan had never been more thankful for his train breaking down for six hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Somewhere in Brooklyn by Bruno Mars.
> 
> Hey, so I hope you enjoyed this! Wasn't really sure where I was going with this lol?  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!<3


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